Recently arriving back from the Tian Xia, Menas Dampton flips the open sign at "Damptons Delve". A small hole-in-the-wall bar in the Naos district in the bustling city of Magnimar.

With a morning prayer his my beloved drunken lord, Cayden Cailean, he saddles up behind the bar while the staff takes the orders of various early patrons. The staggering priest waits to see if any need his particular brand of "Wisdom".

Menas stands roughly 5'9", is of Taldane descent. Tanned skin, long curly brown hair and friendly green eyes. A fairly standard Bartenders outfit and apron upon his person. A wooden mug emblazoned with the holy symbol of Cayden Cailean hangs on his person on a chain.

"Well, another day - another penny." He says with a slight smile, watching the few regulars trickle in.

A tall thin red haired human wearing a dark trenchcoat and a multi colored Varisian scarf draped over his shoulders walks in, casually sidles up to the bar, climbs up on it and strikes a dramatic pose, "Greetings one and all! I am Cormac O'Bron, The World's Worst Rogue [TM], and this is my new home!"

With a sly smile he does a backflip off the bar and lands seated comfortably in a barstool near the end, where it would be difficult to flank him and from which he can see all the exits and windows. "And by 'this' I do mean this barstool which I claim until this place is no more or I die at the hand's of some enraged cuckhold and am called to my final home there to drink from Cayden Cailean's everfull mug. For the nonce, barkeep, I shall require a glass of your best wine, a flagon of your sweetest mead, a mug of your most heady ale, and a shot of the fieriest spirits you have on hand!"

You notice that though it's early, his breath already bears the taint of fine whiskey.

An attractive, young Varisian woman emerges from the back room with the swirling of bright skirts and the jingling of bangles. She stands about 5'8 and wears her dark hair loose to her lower back.

"If you can pay for your drinks, Cormac O'Bron, World's Worst Rogue [TM], I'm sure Menas will let you keep your seat for as long as you can hold your liquor." She smiles warmly. "But your tumbling act had better not be replacing my performance this evening."

She hops up to seat herself on other end of the bar, watching the barkeeper fill the quartet of glasses and mugs

"Goodman, not a problem. For wine, we don't have much in the higher end stuff, but I do have a bottle of 'Damsel in Distress' that I was saving for a rainy day. And when a lad such as yourself comes in my humble establishment - you can say it pours."

"As for Mead, you are in luck, I happen to have a particular sweet bottle from the Two Knights Brewery in Sandpoint. Tasty bit, was made up before the Late Unpleasantness took things over there. So it's still got the taste of happier days."

"The Rusty Dragon, also in Sandpoint, was kind enough to send us over barrel of Ulseberry Ale. Hope it's to your liking. Them Kaijitsu's aren't a bad lot at all." He lowers his breath a bit and glances around thoughtfully."You know - for nobles."

"And if you are looking for fiery spirits - look no further! A Halfling, recently out of Chelix, gifted me a half barrel of Dragon Punch, out of gratitude. Far be it for a humble priest of Cayden Cailean to refuse the obvious favor of his lord, am I right?! So - you'll have nothing to fear for days! Provided you can keep standing."

Lining up the various beverages, he taps his foot thoughtfully, keeping careful and concerned eyes on the thin red head in front of him. On the house today mate, May the Drunken God provide. Not sure if we've met formally or not, getting a lot of faces around here these days. Names Menas, Menas Dampton. Welcome to Damptons Delve. And - don't mind Violca - she is still cranky from a bad instance with a Yeti.

The tanned skinned bartender laughs loudly as his sips from his own flask - mutters a short prayer - as if remembering something horrible.

"I reckon that my uplifting stories of "Ulfric the Unbitten" and my... inspiring dance kept us all alive, Menas. And I think you still owe me a drink from that 'papercut' incident," Violca retorts with a toss of her hair.

Cormac calls down to the other end of the bar, "Sure'n but this is a miraculous day, for the radiance of dawn has graced me twice! Pleasure to make your aquaitance Mistress Violca. I assure you I will be far to rapturous as a spectator to inturrupt your gyrations later."

Cormac turns to Menas and laughingly continues, "Menas, my good man, I don't care how much flaire you employ juggling libations, you should have yon lass slinging juice for your sales will triple with suitors queing up to by drinks just to have her attention."

Then to both of them, "Sounds like there's a tale to be told. Myself, I prefer a good paper cut over the alternatives. What is it... rock crushes skull and scissors cut umbilical cord or some such?"

"I have a great disdain for proper punctuation. Never had much use for it. I leave the writing to Miss Grey. Maybe when I expand a bit I'll dress it up, but for now, the place is fine by me."

Menas tosses the silver in to the tip bowl for the kitchen staff and offers a shrug. He turns to Cormac with a grin."A tale, yes, that you can say for sure. I think Violca is still scribing it out. Her skills lay far away from serving drinks. She'll bring in much more coin with her dancing and story telling."

Violca leans behind the bar and pours herself a glass of Damsel in Distress, savouring the drink before responding.

"It was paper that cut from midriff to throat. I'll spare the details, but fortunately for me, despite his terrible jests, Menas' divine connections fixed me up without a lasting scar," she says as she raises her glass in a toast to the Lucky Drunk.

"As for money-making, I'm a terrible barkeep. I'm too fond of talking and drinking to get anything done and I just don't have the servile knack. And, as appreciative as people are of my dances and stories, the Society pays more for my work as a chronicler than the layman can afford to toss at my nimble feet."

"I'll have to have a glance or two at your writings, Violy, for I'm sure they are as captivating as your smile. I've tried to write a chronicle or two since signing on with The Society, but they were nae interested in either 'The Sumptuous Sylph' or my 'Guide to Korvosan Bordellos.'"

Violca gives a low chuckle. "Perhaps if you had spent more time writing and less time researching, the would have been more interesting." She pauses and ponders a moment. "You know, a guide to Korvosan bordellos could actually be quite useful, provided you devoted a greater portion of the text to the socio-political landscape and less the personal topography of the employees."

Uncorking his flask once again, and taking a swig, Menas turns to Cormac again."Worlds Greatest? Surly you have some exploits - Let ol Menas hear a few of them. As Pathfinders we are always keen to hear a tale or two. Violca and myself just got back from the Tian Xi ourselves. Wonderful people, a bit too much of pushovers, poor bastards need to grow some spines and stand up for themselves once and a while."

Magnus passes by the small “hole-in-the-wall” bar trying to make sense of a monuments map. His mind reels from frustration trying to make sense of the map he purchased from a street peddler realizing after the fact...it was in Varisian.

He looks at the sign “Damptons Delve” and peers through the door at the early crowd.

“An early drink… or a dozen does me just now,” he muses.

The 6 ft. 300 lbs red-haired Ulfen man confidently lumbers through the doorway donned in a fine mithral chainshirt cut at the shoulders, revealing his corded muscular arms marked by runic clan tattoos – most prominent is a linnorm devouring its own tail around his biceps.

He hunkers down on a seat at the bar and takes in his environs and patrons through a steely gaze. An attractive Varisian woman scantily dressed in entertainer’s outfit stands out.

“Very nice,” he mutters approvingly, undressing her with his eyes.

But she seems engaged in a conversation with a smaller red-haired man. Something about “World’s Worst Rogue.”

But the Ulfen thirst for alcohol beckons him and he calls out to the barkeep, who is engaged in conversation.

"Barkeep! What have you worth for a northman to drink in this place?"

His fist ‘thuds’ heavily on the bar top with the map crumbled in his powerful grip.

"And what can you tell me of this map here? I seek a monument called the 'Battle of Charda' in this City of Monuments. But damn the language it was sold me in. I can’t make lemmings heads or tails of it!”

Menas goes through a few rapid emotions. First he seems very happy to be summoned to his higher calling of bartending. Then, his face grows wider upon seeing the massive man - clearly reeking of adventure. Then his face sinks and twitches briefly at the realization of what is to come next. He forces a half grin on to his face, not exactly cocksure - more a grin of someone who really wishes they wanted to be doing what they were about to do.

He looks over the Northman for a few moments, shakes his head, then answers his own question."No. I don't think it would."

He motions for the patron to give him a moment as he moves to the basement door built in to the floor behind the bar. Off a nearby hook he removes and dons a much thicker leather apron, a long pair of protective leather gloves. Then he quaffs a small alchemical vial and then pulls a cloth out of a near by pitcher. The cloth appeared to have been soaking in lemon juice and it drips as he wraps it around his face, covering nose and mouth, leaving his eyes exposed.

He takes a large ring of keys and unlocks the downstairs door with a few tries. Standing again, he offers a slight apologetic bow."But a moment, goodman. In the meantime, I am sure that Miss Grey would be happy to help take a look at the map and the language it is written in." He turns quickly to Violca and coughs under his mask as he grabs a large pitted steel flagon off the shelf.

"If I don't make it back - the bar is yours. Find my mum and pa and tell them I always wanted to make them proud."

With that, the brave barkeep, descends in to the depths of the basement.

The Varisian woman traces the symbol of Pharasma over her heart and downs the rest of her wine before sliding off the bar. She moves over the the Ulfen man and gently uncurls his fingers from around the crumpled map.

"Let's have a look at that for you darling," she says as she smooths the paper out on the bar with delicate fingertips. "Ah, it's Varisian, and quite a decent map if you know language. Lucky for you, you found me," she says with a grin.

"You can skip the 'Miss Grey' business and call me Violca," she continues as she scans the map. "Most everyone does.... and there we are. This is us over here by the little tear to the left of this wrinkle and you want to be here." Violca takes the large man's finger and places it on a prominently marked monument that would have been easy to find if the map had been in Common.

"They say that, if you practice weaponplay before the monument with enough ferocity to fighten the chardas, you will be bolstered with courage in future battles."

“Ursa-berry? You say? Never heard of th–,” but Magnus is cut off as Menus answers his own question.

"No. I don't think it would."

He motions for the patron to give him a moment as he moves to the basement door built in to the floor behind the bar.

With a furrowed brow, Magnus continues to observe his strange antics with curiosity and impatience.

He motions for the patron to give him a moment as he moves to the basement door built in to the floor behind the bar. Off a nearby hook he removes and dons a much thicker leather apron, a long pair of protective leather gloves. Then he quaffs a small alchemical vial and then pulls a cloth out of a near by pitcher. The cloth appeared to have been soaking in lemon juice and it drips as he wraps it around his face, covering nose and mouth, leaving his eyes exposed.

Seeing the Menus putting the cloth around his mouth and nose, Magnus sniffs himself. “What in the frozen hells are you doing man? I know we northmen smell like bears. But sweat’s not sweet when you’ve been running in circles for hours!”

He takes a large ring of keys and unlocks the downstairs door with a few tries. Standing again, he offers a slight apologetic bow."But a moment, goodman. In the meantime, I am sure that Miss Grey would be happy to help take a look at the map and the language it is written in." He turns quickly to Violca and coughs under his mask as he grabs a large pitted steel flagon off the shelf.

"If I don't make it back - the bar is yours. Find my mum and pa and tell them I always wanted to make them proud."

With that, the brave barkeep, descends in to the depths of the basement.

“What the - ?” Magnus leans over the counter, watching him disappear in the depths of the basement. First time, he has seen a barkeep give up his post.

“Damn...must be Taldan,” he mutters as he sinks back down to his seat.

And suddenly...

A delicate touch on his hand melts his grip. An alluring presence hovers above him, dispelling his rousing distress. It’s the Varisian woman.

"Let's have a look at that for you darling," she says as she smooths the paper out on the bar with delicate fingertips. "Ah, it's Varisian, and quite a decent map if you know language. Lucky for you, you found me," she says with a grin.

“Aye. And do I feel lucky!” he replies with widen eyes. In an instant, the barkeep and his thirst for drink were forgotten.

"You can skip the 'Miss Grey' business and call me Violca," she continues as she scans the map. "Most everyone does.... and there we are. This is us over here by the little tear to the left of this wrinkle and you want to be here." Violca takes the large man's finger and places it on a prominently marked monument that would have been easy to find if the map had been in Common.

“Very well, Violca…” his eyes bounce between her and the map, not even noticing his hand being moved. He comes to, realizing his finger marks the spot – The Monument of the Battle of Charda.

"They say that, if you practice weaponplay before the monument with enough ferocity to fighten the chardas, you will be bolstered with courage in future battles."

Magnus holds the map close to his face and studies the location. He holds up the signature wayfinder of a Pathfinder on the pommel of his Viking saex (dagger). He spins about, clocking its direction.

“I see...Then, I’m certain the “Linnorm’s Claw” and alllll its ferocity will suffice for I rarely need the use of steel these days to defeat my enemies!” he answers in a booming resonant voice, as his fingers curl and mimes a claw, grasping towards the ceiling.

He quits his antics. Back to the important matter at hand, as he stops, facing towards the Northeastern point of the city. “That fort where it’s by...I say it looks to be about 400 paces out.”

“Simple enough...” he says, sheathing the dagger, relieved at the expedited journey.

“Well, you have my thanks, Miss Violca,” he says, turning his attention back to her. He reaches into his pouch and generously tosses few silver into the glass tipping jar. “You have just spared me much time -- Time that can be spent in pursuit of other finer things in life while in this magnificient city. Time can be short for us northmen before we are brought to the doorsteps of Valhalla.”

He takes his seat. "However, before I go on, there is one more monument that I seeks answers to -- The Monument of Violca -- What must one do to receive a bolstering from that one?" he says with a cheeky grin.

Violca smirks, "Alas, the Monument of Violca takes more than a little ferocity and waving around of weapons to be persuaded to bolster anyone."

She pauses and tips her head to the side seeming to think for a moment then continues in a much less sultry tone. "Of course, if we're being literal, I'd follow you and your Wayfinder about and bolster you to your heart's content if the journey looked interesting. I'm a bard and chronicler for the Society."

"Menas," Violca jerks a thumb towards the returning barkeep, "and I have been on a few expeditions of our own. I only dance in the Delve as something to do between assignments."

Emerging from the basement, with a tankard in hand, the Barkeep slowly and carefully makes his way to Magnus. He sets the pitted tankard down and wipes his brow with the back of his long leather gloves.

"There! Didn't spill a drop. For your drinking - er - pleasure Goodman! Straight from the Land of the Linnorn Kings! Vjarik, the brew you choose for all your fire moat, medical purposes and drinking needs!" He turns to Violca, frowns and says as an aside "We really need our dear Barrister to draft us up some of those waivers she was rambling on about."

Turning once more to Northman"Think nothing of my garb goodman! It is not to be offensive! A good priest of the Drunken Lord knows his limits - and mine are firmly drawn at Vjarik. The expernices I have had with this mighty brew are painful, frightening, nightmarish and - may I add - at once or twice per year - far too frequent!

Violca smirks, "Alas, the Monument of Violca takes more than a little ferocity and waving around of weapons to be persuaded to bolster anyone."

Magnus bellows in laughter. “Of course, of course. But a man must start somewhere!”

She pauses and tips her head to the side seeming to think for a moment then continues in a much less sultry tone. "Of course, if we're being literal, I'd follow you and your Wayfinder about and bolster you to your heart's content if the journey looked interesting. I'm a bard and chronicler for the Society."

"Menas," Violca jerks a thumb towards the returning barkeep, "and I have been on a few expeditions of our own. I only dance in the Delve as something to do between assignments."

“Wait. You both work for the Society?” he answers with surprise. “Ha! Tis great! Unfortunately, I doubt anything of interest or danger will occur in 400 paces and less so in the Alabaster District. None like the assignments the Society sends us on.”

“I too am between assignments, serving as guard to a Taldan diplomatic envoy from Oppara on behalf of Prince Stavian. However, on this very eve, tis my turn for a night of my own. So while some of my brethren will wallow at the ‘Gilded Cage,’ I take the time to seek if the stories of the monuments are true.

“Among my brethren in the Longaxes, I am Huscarl Magni. At the ‘Crimson Coins’ in Absalom, I go by the name of 'The Fist of the Linnorm,' but simply Magnus will do. Well met fellow Pathfinder. And whether we walk 400 paces or make 400 waves, I’d welcome your company for the eve!”

His conversation is interrupted by the return of the barkeep...with his drink.

Emerging from the basement, with a tankard in hand, the Barkeep slowly and carefully makes his way to Magnus. He sets the pitted tankard down and wipes his brow with the back of his long leather gloves.

"There! Didn't spill a drop. For your drinking - er - pleasure Goodman! Straight from the Land of the Linnorn Kings! Vjarik, the brew you choose for all your fire moat, medical purposes and drinking needs!" He turns to Violca, frowns and says as an aside "We really need our dear Barrister to draft us up some of those waivers she was rambling on about."

Turning once more to Northman "Think nothing of my garb goodman! It is not to be offensive! A good priest of the Drunken Lord knows his limits - and mine are firmly drawn at Vjarik. The expernices I have had with this mighty brew are painful, frightening, nightmarish and - may I add - at once or twice per year - far too frequent!

“Ah Vjarik you say? Excellent!” Magnus paws at the tankard like a thirsty bear and gulps the contents down.

He lowers the tankard with a loud rumbling exhilarating exhale “AHHHHHHHHHHHHH” One can almost feel flames from his breath.

“Huss! Now tis what I call a drink!! Stuff's strong enough to give ole Fafneir a second wind!” He takes another massive swig. "I say Jayleen 'Morning Dove' over at the ‘Gilded Cage’ best keep her eyes on you!”

Magnus reaches into his coin pouch. “You done well, barkeep. Your god should be proud of you. If not, I'd punch him in the face and sober him up. Now, how much do I owe you for your troubles?”

Menas smiles wide"For a fellow Pathfinder? Drinks are on the house Goodman. I got to say mate, you look well seasoned. I'm grateful for your business, but I'd be keener to hear what you have been up to lately. Just got in to Varasia myself, I mean I traveled here lots in my youth - but it's been a while, and things have changed.

"On the house!? Now you make it impossible to leave. Or go anywhere else for drink." Magnus pulls out a handful of silver coins and tosses it in the tipping jar. (all proceeds go to Menus's dayjob roll)

"Aye, seasoned. That I am. A veteran? No. At least not yet. As I was telling your fair lass here, I’m a Longaxe this time around –- Just some low-ranking Huscarl. So I don’t guard the Prince himself, but his nobles. Taldor’s been trying to set up a foothold in Varisia. Something about an aristocracy...alliance. Bah!" Magnus waves his hand dismissively. "I let the soft folk do their squabbling. And they keep my purses full with gold to do what a Northman do best."

Magnus takes another swig. "On the morrow morning, I leave back for Oppara. After, think I will head back to the Lodge. See what they got for me. This city and all its whores, drink, and games is hard on the purse. Many my brethren come’ere rich and leave a pauper. This place is so bad it’s good." He shakes his head.

"So far the Society’s been sending me out to the cold climes. But I think I will push for jobs in the Far East. Heard the yellow-skin folks there are the best at fighting with their hands and I seek to know more about this Ruby Phoenix Tournament. Word is all the best go there to compete. I train a lifetime for something like that. And if it's the most gloriest of all in Golarion, then by the might of the Great Linnorm, I will swear on my lifeblood on winning it!"

Menas nods his head while cleaning a few mugs. He gives the Northman a once over and gives another quick nod, appraising him like one would a finely age glass of whiskey. [i]"Have you visited any of the local Shoanti tribes? I spent some time with the Skoan-Quah - The Skull Clan - lot of them folk believe that fighting with a weapon is a form of cowardice. I imagine you may find a worthy challenger or two. But we careful, bring a guide, you maybe able to hire one of the city living Shoanti to act as a go between. Some of them tribes are hard to understand and harder to get along with."[/b]

Magnus strokes his moustache listening. “Shoanti, ye say? I have not. Time is fleeting when in this city. But if this Skull Clan has a worthy champion that spurns steel and wood, then I will make effort next time in these parts. See how they fair against my Glima.

Cormac, who had faded into the shadows at the arrival of Magnus, speaks from his darkened corner, raising his hand in greeting to the burly newcomer, "The Society still has me cutting my teeth on goblins and the like mostly... although I did recently fight some mystical monkeys."

"I've been to Tian-Xia and watched them fight," she says as she runs a finger around the rim of her empty wineglass. "I spent some time at the Dragon Temple there. They take a whole body approach to combat. Every student is trained in staff, sword, knives and spear, as well as wrestling and unarmed combat. They later add more exotic weapons and some even incorporate magic into their styles, so don't go in expecting nothing but hands and feet. Of course, I wasn't permitted to train with the brothers, but I don't take to that kind of authoritarian approach anyway."

Violca smirks as the wineglass sings under her finger. "It was hard enough maintaining my role as a sumbissive lady who liked sitting under peach trees and drinking hideous teas. Training under the masters would have turned me black and blue from the beating for my inevitable insolence. To their credit though," she continues with a giggle, "if they saw me spiking my tea with something stronger, they didn't say anything."

Cormac, who had faded into the shadows at the arrival of Magnus, speaks from his darkened corner, raising his hand in greeting to the burly newcomer, "The Society still has me cutting my teeth on goblins and the like mostly... although I did recently fight some mystical monkeys."

Magnus nods to Cormac and shirks at the mention of goblins. "I have had my fill of those damn things. Seems the Society’s been saving ‘em for the greenies and I paid my dues."

Violca smiles at the mention of the Tian monks.

"I've been to Tian-Xia and watched them fight," she says as she runs a finger around the rim of her empty wineglass. "I spent some time at the Dragon Temple there. They take a whole body approach to combat. Every student is trained in staff, sword, knives and spear, as well as wrestling and unarmed combat. They later add more exotic weapons and some even incorporate magic into their styles, so don't go in expecting nothing but hands and feet. Of course, I wasn't permitted to train with the brothers, but I don't take to that kind of authoritarian approach anyway."

Violca smirks as the wineglass sings under her finger. "It was hard enough maintaining my role as a sumbissive lady who liked sitting under peach trees and drinking hideous teas. Training under the masters would have turned me black and blue from the beating for my inevitable insolence. To their credit though," she continues with a giggle, "if they saw me spiking my tea with something stronger, they didn't say anything."

Magnus raises a brow, as Violca recants her experience living among the Tian monks with interest.

"Perhaps tis best if you didn't train with those monk-eys who must rely on magicks. My minds eye of you with a shaved head and yellow robes and what I see before my eyes now, I cannae fathom it." Magnus shirks at the thought, grabs his empty tankard and calls out to Menus. "Menus! I will need another one to burn away those scarring thoughts."

He turns his attention back to Violca. " I must say though, my dear Violca, you are a woman of many surprises. But I like that! A woman with keen mind and of broad travels who can draw sounds with her quill, and if your dance can charm men like the song of those accursed bird-women, hells...then it tis an atrocity that the monument of Violca is not this map I say!"

"So let me ask you this: If you have the Starstone in your grasp and became a goddess on the morrow, and you must choose between dance and quill, which of it would it be? What is your heart’s desire?”

"Kyra, Valeros, many thanks for another fine adventure! I've heard mention of Cayden Cailean at Damptons Delve so I ready my silver tankard! May Desna guide your way back..., er and like of course Sarenrae!"

"Chow Gaerath, until next time" waves Veleros. And Krya nods as Gaerath heads into Damptons, bearing his silver tankard of The Drunken Lord.

The tall half-orc that makes his way up to the bar is dressed in blue robes embroidered with stars, comets, and butterflies. A Wayfinder stamped with the the Pathfinder-Decemvirate hangs from his belt across from a haversack. The obvious priest of Desna has a friendly smile and gray lucid eyes. Brown dreadlocks flow out of his loose turban.

"Like, good day barkeep, I'll have some of Cayden Cailean's finest please" says Gaerath as he places his frescoed Silver Tankard upon the bar.

"So let me ask you this: If you have the Starstone in your grasp and became a goddess on the morrow, and you must choose between dance and quill, which of it would it be? What is your heart’s desire?”/QUOTE]

Hearing that last bit Gaerath looks up from his empty tankard and smiles at the question.
He pulls out of his haversack, a leaf-wrapped wad of herbs, and flint/steel.

"So let me ask you this: If you have the Starstone in your grasp and became a goddess on the morrow, and you must choose between dance and quill, which of it would it be? What is your heart’s desire?”

Violca laughs lightly, "How could I ever labour over a quill for eternity if I could be the Lady of the Dance?"

With that, she flits across the room and commandeers the small dias that serves the bar as a stage. "It's a little early, so my fellow performers aren't here yet, but I will dance for you, if someone will give me music."

Engrossed in conversation, Magnus just notices the new Pathfinder patron "Hail, fellow Pathfinder. Depends on him. The place is his." (nodding towards Menus)

Violca Grey wrote:

Violca laughs lightly, "How could I ever labour over a quill for eternity if I could be the Lady of the Dance?"

With that, she flits across the room and commandeers the small dias that serves the bar as a stage. "It's a little early, so my fellow performers aren't here yet, but I will dance for you, if someone will give me music."

"OH YES!" Magnus lightens up, stands and looks around around the room. "Anybody play!? Or should I go nab some street performers?"

Violca smiles as a travel-worn Varisian man in the corner pulls out a fiddle from a battered case and strikes up a lively folk song. She kicks off her shoes, a bit of a dangerous thing to do in a bar, and begins clapping in time with the music. Once the majority of the bar have joined her more-or-less on the beat, she turns her back to the crowd for a moment before twirling around and moving with the rhythm.

Before long Violca is dancing and spinning with swirl of skirts and a swish of colourful scarves. The bangles on her wrists and ankles chime in perfect time to music.

Following Violca’s lead, Magnus enthusiastically wastes no time in joining the rhythmic clap to set tempo. His powerful meaty hands clash in a low powerful “THOOMP THOOMP” resonating throughout the room.

"RAHH! With his booming voice, Magnus roars and cheers loudly as Violca twists and spins about in the fervor of her dance. This eve, he is a typical Ulfen. He takes a sip from his tankard. Realizes it’s empty. Goes back to cheering "RAHHH!"

He nudges Gaereth next to him and nods towards the stage. "The monument of Violca." He grips and shakes the map. "Tis right here on the map! Hehehehe.”

As Violca's dance comes to a conclusion, Magnus gives her a standing ovation and CHEERS loudly. "YEAAAAA! I say toss the quill woman!"

Laughing loudly, Menas starts handing out beverages over the counter. He keeps an eye out for Pathfinder membership and waives the fee offering a subtle quick wink. Those who insist find their money placed in a charity box at the end of the bar.

"Violca, you're a credit to your people, my dear. Just lets not start any riots today. It's still pretty early."

Urai is now 16th level and has had a long and colorful history. He was the first character to die and come back to life in the PFS campaign. This death led him to change deities (from Pharasma to Serenrae) and despise Taldans (since a Taldan killed him). This was also the last time he bathed.

He had the unique opportunity to be the ‘Watch Commander’ leading a group of Pathfinders in a special event held at NeonCon. During this event he jumped into a Froghemoth’s mouth and cut a way out for others who had been swallowed. He pushed 2 people out before devoting himself to killing the beast from the inside. Later he would throw one of the PCs on the mission into Absalom bay for disobeying Urai’s orders. After the PC swam back out of the bay they both went out drinking.

In the Race for the RuneCarved key he set in motion events that led to Sheila Hiedmarch’s death. Even though 4 out of 6 of the members of his team died, the team was very effective at accomplishing the goals of the society. He usually stays away from Magnimar as has promised to return and kill Sheila if she did not treat the Pathfinders that report to her well.

He has an associate professorship at the Korvosan Acedemae, where he teaches the students how to drink.

He currently lives with his woman (Venture Captain Tauni – Elven Archer extraordinaire) in a cabin outside of Whistledown. He is classified as a ‘Special Operative’.

His combat style is based around the Cornugon Smash feat which allows him to intimidate anything he hits in battle. The Rogue Thug archetype allows him to convert the shaken state into the frightened state if he can get a high enough roll on intimidate.

Per the Legend Lore spell any PC that is 11th level or high is considered legendary.

For those that are sensitive there is a moment when the air stills and a feeling of danger builds.

A 6' 6" 250 lbs. blond haired giant of an Ulfen man glides through the door. Wearing the trappings of a Chelaxian bodyguard it looks like everything non-essential about this man has been burned away and all that remains is a hunger for battle and bright shining blue eyes. His thick right forearm is branded with the Thasilonian rune for Wrath.

Even standing still looking around the room a sense of menace radiates from his muscular frame as if at any instant he could become the center of a whirlwind of blood and pain.

This is Urai Agmundr a blood stained legend among the Society.

It is rumored that he abandoned his duties as a Pathfinder to go a raiding with Skelg the Ripper for a year in the Inner Sea after dying in the Qadiran desert. They say that he was banned from the Grand Lodge for a year due to the structural damage he caused during an 'incident' within Sky Reach. During the aftermath of the recent auction for the Runecarved key he was named 'the Society’s Demon' for the relentless and bloody swath he cut through the Society’s enemies. On his last assignment in Magnimar 4 out of the 6 members of his team died. Devils have been known to flee the battlefield rather than stand and face him.

Sighting the bartender his voice booms out,
"I am Urai Agmundr and I am told that there is Vjarik here. I will have it and also for any who would drink with me."

Cormac says, "Voilcy, drinking water in a tavern is akin to blasphemy to those that set their faith in Cayden's everful mug. Lass, if ye must drink lightly have some mead!"

Then the room falls silent as a sense of dread power sweeps through the place and in walks a living legend. After the newcomer's pronouncement, Cormac cartwheels over to the behemoth and sticks out his hand in a greeting, "I'll drink with ye lad, on one condition. Y've got to crack a smile! This aura of dread thing is harshing my buzz. I've travelled with hellknights seeking vengeance who were more chipper than you seem to be!"

Reposted from another thread: Urai and Sheila's history and minor spoilers about Race for the Runecarved key:

Urai and Sheila Heidmarch had a run in during part 1 of the Race for the Runecarved Key at GenCon. Sheila had sent the group out to collect money in support of the pathfinders auction bid. She had sent the tier 12+ group out after 1500gp. The resulting fight to reclaim this paltry sum left 4 of the party dead. For one PC this was his second death.

Urai called Sheila on her foolishness. He said she had sent the group out to collect 1500gp and we spent over 20,000gp to get it. He then pointed to each of the pathfinders who had died on the mission and asked them how many times they had died today. Then he asked Sheila how many times she had died today. He told her to quit wasting our time and get serious.

A later mission was to retrieve blackmail material on another auction bidder. We found something that we thought could contain what Sheila was looking for and transported the entire object back to her manor house. We left it for her not knowing that it was trapped. When Sheila opened the object she was hit by a disintegrate spell failed her save and was reduced to dust.

This is why Urai is currently not allowed in the Magnimar area, at least not wihtout an escort and fair warning to Sheila Heidmarch.

It would take something like rumors of Vjarik to bring him into the city.

Menas seems a bit taken aback by the presence of the legendary giant that just stepped in his bar. His face goes through a variety of expressions as he absorbs what just happened.

First is plain and simple awe. Second astonishment. Third could could weakly be described as excitement. Fourth; a nervous sense of urgency and finally the fifth expression on his face. For the second time in such a short period. Fearful resolve.

"A test - Clearly a test sent by the Accidental God himself. Well - Lord Agmundr, I dare say few in this bar - and not even the gods themselves - would deny you a drink! I.. I will- just uh-

He sighs heavily and looks back at the trap door and carefully readies his protective clothing, getting himself a second swath of cloth to cover his face.

"I'll just be a moment. Hell - I'll bring the Keg up. The oddly garbed bartender shudders nervously, then with a look to Violca, he says with a sigh and some punctuating hand gestures."Me. Dead?. You. Bar."

As he speaks to Violca, Magnus wrinkles his nose to the legendary scent and catches glimpse of the fellow Ulfen strolling in. He does a double-take. The trappings of the devil-worshipping Chelaxians...a dead give-away that this man is definitely not in his detail, and definitely not a Longaxe.

Quote:

"I am Urai Agmundr and I am told that there is Vjarik here. I will have it and also for any who would drink with me."

“Urai Agrundr...” The name echoes in the back of his head. “Why does that name sound so familiar?” he thinks to himself.

Then it comes to him. He remembers now the name passing through the drunken lips of his brethren over at the “Staggering Skald” alehouse in Oppara. The name is associated with menacing deeds in the battlefield that would send fiends with their tails tucked running, but a name stained in blood and infamy in the Society.

He recalls the tale of one of his brethren recanting how dangerous this man is. The kind one finds in prison isolated from others. The kind the 'Ten' would not dare to control, but rather 'unleash' as a weapon upon the enemies of the Society.

"Ah, Frozen hells...What is he really doing here of all places? And what quarrel does he have with the Heidmarchs?” thinks Magnus to himself as his eyes narrow. His body tenses at the sign of any distress and trouble in his newfound sanctuary.

From the side of his eyes, he looks at Menus and monitors his reaction. He looks back at Violca and notes hers, while trying to play off his cool. All the while Cormac approaches the man nonchalantly. "Crazy greenhorn, might as well run up to a wild lion," he continues thinking to himself.

Quote:

"Haah! You do have it!. This is good. I will buy this keg from you bartender and will bring it up myself if you do not have the skill."

"The Keg?!" Magnus jolts out of his thoughts and turns around to face Urai, sizing up the legend seeing him in the flesh for the first time.

"Good...Good...! Haha!" Magnus sits back into his seat, relieved. He watches Urai go bounding after Menus and disappear into the basement. He muses how the man and the myth seem so different from what the tales made him out to be.

He turns his attention back to Violca, exhaling out the tension and smiles.

"Well, if Urai Agrundr is here and means us no malice, that makes Dampton’s Delve the safest place in Magnimar at the moment," he says under his breath.